Posts Tagged ‘presents’

I actually took a picture of Shepherd’s Bush station a few weeks ago, but it was dark and so my iPhone’s camera got confused and blurred the whole thing up, making it unpostable. But Toby and I went to Westfield again today and this time, it was daylight! So I got a nice picture of the station:

… as well as some Christmas presents (this weekend I have finally kicked off buying Christmas presents, and am proud to say that I am nearly halfway done!) and also a nice little Christmas tree and some decorations for my flat! I haven’t quite finished, and it wasn’t as traditional-looking as I intended, but I am still pleased with the results:

Thank you Paperchase and Debenhams for supplying the goods! I love this time of year and it’s so lovely to have my very own first set of mini Christmas decorations!

I was saying to one of my friends that it’s been a while since I blogged one of my dreams! I guess that sometimes if you speak something, it has a funny way of coming into existence. I also must give some credit to the kebab I bought with Mike on the way back from our last course night out watching the England match (which was dull, although cheering along with the mindless supporters was amusing; I don’t think they realised Penny and I were taking the piss out of them) – the stomach ache I bear as a result, coupled with the disrupted night’s sleep I had, worked together to produce this crazy dream as well as my decision that, like crisps and popcorn, I will never eat another kebab again. Anyway, here goes:

—

I found myself at university, staying in a dorm building which had several of my friends living on the same corridor as me. The hall was brightly lit, with a peach coloured carpet, and Toby lived a couple of doors down from me. A few doors in the opposite direction, towards the end of our corridor, lived this random guy whom I don’t know in real life, and whom I didn’t know much about in the dream, except he was gay and had quite a youthful face and a happy-go-lucky, slightly crazy manner. I remember on this particular day, Toby was getting ready to present a presentation he had worked on with his friend on a song they had written for a team they’d been given in a World Cup sweepstake. He hadn’t let me hear the song, and he was quite nervous about it but pretending as if everything were fine. To give him some space, I decided to get a bus and go to a string of shops which looked similar to the top of Gloucester Road, except with less shops and shops which looked even more run down than what’s there in reality. The trip seemed fruitless, and I remember returning back to my corridor pretty promptly.

On my return, I bumped into the guy who lived near the end of the corridor. He was burbling about something, and invited me to go back to his room. I was reluctant to go as I wanted to wish Toby luck before he started his presentation / performance, but at the same time I wasn’t sure whether it was a good idea to disturb him, so I decided to follow the guy to his room. We chatted for a while, and then ended up having (anatomically incorrect – orifices do NOT look / contort like that!) sex. Immediately afterwards I felt guilty, and made small talk while hurriedly getting out of there. I ran down the corridor to find Toby, who was due to start his presentation. I located the classroom (oddly enough further down the same corridor as where all our bedrooms were) and burst in through the open door, where Toby and his classmates were gathered in front of a lecturer standing at a lectern in front of a giant screen filled with the flags of the World Cup in some kaleidoscopic Powerpoint presentation. Toby was stood on a chair, ostensibly about to sing his song, but everyone turned to look at me and Toby’s mouth gaped as I ran towards him, hugged his legs and nuzzled my face into his crotch. He asked me what was wrong, but I decided to keep my infidelity to myself and said that nothing was wrong and I just wanted to wish him luck and let him know I was there for him. At that moment, he smiled (which made me feel a combination of guilt and immense love), and the whole class sighed as if they wanted to get on with the presentation of the songs.

At this point, my stomach ache woke me up again as it had done periodically throughout the night. I remember getting up to open the window; it was light outside and I hoped that some fresh air would do me good (as it happened, it made no difference) before getting back into bed and falling back to sleep.

I found myself going into a giant record store which reminded me of a huge Virgin Megastore from back in the day. When I walked in, the front of store display advertised hordes of Paulina Rubio CDs, books, DVDs and other memorabilia at knock-down prices. I was about to start browsing – there were items that certainly caught my eye even at first glance, when I bumped into my tutor from university, Mary. She was sat reading a book on a cube seat, and she smiled at me and started asking how I was. We had a conversation about the book she was reading, and about what some of my favourite books were. I then saw two women approaching her wearing skirt suits, and Mary explained that she was interviewing for the course intake for next year, so she would have to say goodbye for now. I smiled and left the seating area as one woman sat down and began to talk to Mary, who had closed her book; the other sat on an adjacent cube and began to read a book of her own. I was about to start browsing the Paulina Rubio merchandise, which including products which both do and don’t exist in real life, when I bumped into Simon from the careers guidance course. He asked me if I had seen Mary; I responded by indicating the cubed seating area, but then explaining that she was doing interviews so he might have to wait for a while before he was able to speak to her. With nothing much else to say to him, I left Simon and began to browse the shelves.

However, during my conversations with Mary and Simon, a lot of the CDs had been snapped up, and I could barely find half of the products which had been on offer when I’d first entered the shop. I spent quite a long time rummaging and amassing quite a collection of items, when I bumped into my mother, Deena and Davina. They said that they had come shopping looking for a birthday present for me, and immediately handed me a big box of some kind of board game, and a smaller box on top. They said that they were going to look for some other gifts for me. My mother immediately disappeared, and Davina and Deena went off in different directions. I followed Deena and asked her if there was anything I could buy for Davina, but I don’t think she had any suggestions. Eventually, I found myself left alone by them and I had to go to the till and pay for my Paulina Rubio stuff, and also for my own birthday presents!

Afterwards, I returned home with all my purchases only to find that my mother had already arrived at home. She looked at the amount of carrier bags I had, and then she engaged me in some meaningless, forgettable conversation. I don’t remember what was said, but I remember taking a yellow sleeping bag with me and leaving the house. I wandered the streets and before long, found a wide grey pavement outside a run-down block of flats. For some reason, in my head I had decided that this was an orphanage, and the area of town did not look very Bristolian nor very friendly; it was all quite dilapidated, and I felt quite tired so I decided to lay down on the pavement and curled up in my sleeping bag. However, the sleeping bag was double-sized, so I still only took up half of the bag; the other half covered the rest of the pavement. After a few moments, Mike came strolling by as if by chance, looked down and noticed me laying on the floor (I wasn’t asleep). He spoke to me briefly, and we chatted before he told me to budge up, got down on the pavement and slid into the sleeping bag next to me. This time, nothing sexual happened but we just chatted for a while and I remember feeling happy and lucky that I had a friend to spend time with.

—

That is about it! As always, any thoughts or light that you can shed on this is more than welcome. A few connections that I can make: I watched the World Cup match last night, so perhaps the football was in my head; I’d seen Deena earlier in the week and I remember we were walking around HMV and she was considering looking for a present for her friend’s girlfriend. During the night out last night, I was speaking to Mike about how much his friendship meant to me and how lucky I was to have him in my life. I also spent a lot of the evening texting Toby, who is currently sunning it up in Florida (lucky man); I miss him. Finally, Simon was the only person who hadn’t managed to get into the bar last night where we were watching the football; although Mary wasn’t invited to watch the football with us, it is interesting that Simon is the one who was asking me about her whereabouts, as if he were looking for someone from our course just as he was last night. But the rest of it is beyond me!!!

“She got a Fendi fetish / She got a shopping problem
That girl’s a shopaholic / She only mess with ballers
She got a Gucci fetish / She got a Louis problem
She got a shopping problem / That girl’s a shopaholic”
— “Shopaholic”, Nicki Minaj f/ Gucci Mane.

Listening to the above song from Nicki Minaj’s stellar Beam Me Up Scotty mixtape, I can’t help but relate. I have never been very good at resisting shops, but today I went into Guess with Toby and promptly dropped £136 on a bag (it matches my wallet! And I’ve been keeping an eye out for a new bag) and a hoodie (it was in the sale, the last one and my size. Therefore, it was destiny and there was nothing I could do but fulfil it). Note that I have my excuses rationale ready 😉 I felt a little guilty because Toby has a little bit of cashflow difficulty, and I didn’t work last week when I went to get my new tattoo done (which cost £100 in itself!). I think I might have to take on some extra shifts at the hospital. I am not one to flash cash, especially when that cash comes largely from funding to do my course, and I am also spending a significant amount of money on getting my driving licence (wish me luck for my theory test on Tuesday morning!), which is a pretty necessary measure. I’ve never been rich. But sometimes the allure of beautiful designer things is just too much to resist.

I spoke in a recent entry about the fact that I wasn’t always like this. Designer names used to be something out of reach, irrelevant. I was younger, those were things that would come in time. Well, I’m not younger anymore; that time is now. Life is too short to be wanting forever; I don’t spend crazy amounts on irrelevant things, so why shouldn’t I treat myself? Generally, I am a shopaholic because I love spending money, be it on myself or on other people, and I’m just as happy to buy other people things because I find the look on their faces when they open a well-chosen gift something to treasure; that’s my favourite part of holidays like Christmas. But sometimes I feel a little guilty because perhaps I should be a little more responsible with money – you never know what is going to happen tomorrow. I should appreciate more the plight of people who might never be able to have even one beautiful thing in their life.

I think about my grandmother when I have crises of confidence like this. She’s actually quite wealthy, but she’s never been one to treat herself; she would much rather give everything she has to other people. She will be 77 years old next month, and in April it will be 2 years since my grandfather died. I love her to pieces, but it’s hard to get through to her the philosophy that she’s earned the right to spend a little on herself and treat herself to a nice little something every now and then. Hell, I’m 24 and I’m feeling that life is too short! But since she’s never bought herself designer things, precious jewellery, something special, preferring instead to shop at pound stores and discounters (even though their wares often fall apart in a matter of weeks, necessitating a repeat purchase and costing you more in the long run – I’m a believer that generally you get what you pay for, and if you don’t then you take it back and you take your money elsewhere). I wish that she would recognise that she is worth a little bit of luxury. I think that she is a good person; I think that I am at the heart of it a good person, and a good person doesn’t declare themselves all the time. But nor should a good person go totally unsung or unrecognised. That’s why I love to treat my friends, my family, those close to me – they are good people and they deserve a little luxury. The same goes for myself. And I wouldn’t spend it if I really couldn’t afford it, so why should I feel bad about it? The only thing I hate is to be spending like this around people who honestly can’t afford it, because the last thing I am is a snob. After all, this ability to buy something nice is fairly new to me – I wasn’t always like this, and I’ll never forget that there was a time (and there might be a time again soon – who knows?) when I couldn’t afford it myself. I know what it’s like to have to really budget, and I truly hope that nobody close to me thinks that I’m buying things just for the name. Shopping is about achieving the person I always aimed to be, about externally realising the man I am inside. I hope that nobody close to me ever thinks that I don’t appreciate what I have, or that I take for granted my current finances. Because I do, and I don’t (respectively). And as for what the rest of the world thinks, I couldn’t give a fuck.

I have found my own sense of style, and a look in which I feel comfortable. Unfortunately, that look is expensive 😛 (What do you expect? I have Italian blood 😉 ) Sometimes I have to ask Toby / Hannah / Nick / Davina / Deena / Karina to drag or steer me away from certain shops, because I know that I shouldn’t spend the money – it’s not necessary. But from time to time, I give in to the devil on my right shoulder and buy myself something nice because I want it, I need it, I earned it. Maybe I’m a little bit devilish, maybe I’m a shopaholic. But if so, that’s who I am and on the whole, I like it 😉

I remember when I was little I would count down the days to Christmas Day so eagerly. About the 22nd December, I would be so excited I couldn’t sleep. And then on the day itself, I’d be up ridiculously early, eager to open my presents and be spoiled for the day before we would go to my nan’s for a big Christmas lunch, relax in front of the television watching one film or another while my mum and my nan chatted, my grandfather slept and my dad made a nuisance of himself in one way or another. Eventually we would go home to wait for the inevitable boredom that was Boxing Day. But overall, it’d be a lovely day and hold the type of memories I’ll always cherish.

I guess it’s called growing up, but I don’t feel at all the same now. Part of it is that those memories are irreplaceable – my grandfather is now dead, my grandmother is in Australia this year, and the year before last spent the day in hospital with my granddad, and my father is the one who cooks now (nowhere near as well, though it’s ok) and we eat here at home. There’s no eagerness to open my presents, and since my parents don’t seem bothered by what I get them, they wait until 11am or something ridiculous like that just so that I can see their faces and suss out whether they really like their gifts. In other words, the childhood traditions of Christmas are completely broken and gone; we do things differently now, and sometimes I wonder if I was the only one who ever enjoyed Christmas.

Nowadays, I dread the day itself. There’s nothing to watch on TV, there’s nowhere to go that isn’t parent-sponsored (my friends are all busy with their families, obviously; there aren’t any buses and as I don’t yet have a car – something which I’m looking to change in the very near future – I am essentially home-bound), the sanity of my nan’s conversation and the scrumptiousness of her cooking is poorly imitated by my father. And I feel bad for saying that, because it’s not that his cooking is bad; it’s not. It’s perfectly edible, but it’s not the same. I have a lot of my own issues with food, eating food and generally feeling guilty for it. (Another down side to Christmas – every cigarette I have is under surveillance, so I am currently eating more and smoking less. Not good for my figure, nor my state of mind!) But nevertheless I am always eager to taste my nan’s cooking – it is that good (I like to call it the Italian influence) that even though I exercise restraint in size of portions, I eat more than I otherwise would. Her food has a certain feeling of safety to it that is comforting and yet vibrant and actively tangible; my father’s food just feels fake and bland in comparison. That’s just Christmas Day – this year I plan to be talking to Mike (who is a real Scrooge! I’m certainly not as bad as he is – he actively hates it) and complaining in unison, and quite possibly working on my essay. Hell, there’s nothing else to do.

Nowadays, my favourite part of Christmas is buying everyone’s presents. I couldn’t really care less what people get me, as I appreciate anyone thinking about me enough to get me a present, and I don’t tell people what to get me as everything I actively want is invariably too expensive, and I wouldn’t be happy with people (not even my parents) spending that much money on me. I prefer to buy jewellery and expensive items with my own money, because then it’s my own decision and I’m not bound to being grateful to anyone. The thing I enjoy about buying people’s presents is the rush and buzz in the shops, the feeling that Christmas is here (maybe it’s left over from my days working in retail – which I am still so glad are over) and most of all, choosing the right gift for somebody so that it will genuinely make them happy and let them know I have not only put thought into what I’ve chosen for them, but that I value them as a friend. This year I have spent a bit more money than usual and than I intended, but since I have my bursary from university, I can afford it 😉 Hell, if I can afford my Gucci earrings and bracelet (which FINALLY came on Wednesday after a 3-month wait!), I can afford splashing out an extra few £ for my friends. I take pleasure and pride in that, and I believe that as much as I deserve to be treated, so do they. We all should allow ourselves to feel good, and allow our friends to shine a little sunshine our way every now and then.

But the meaning of Christmas has changed. This year at university has been something I’ve enjoyed so much, I plan to go into the library over the holiday just to see Mike and do some work – it fills the time! I can barely stand to be at home anymore unless I have the house to myself, because I feel like I’m in a cage that isn’t allowed to co-exist comfortably in the same room as my parents. I go to Starbucks most days when I have free time just to work on my essay – it has the double bonus of allowing me to escape the house & have some cigarettes, and I actually seem to get a fair amount of work done there. (The unfortunate drawback is that I consume a beverage that contains calories – though I always go for skinny, so I guess it’s not too bad.) I like being around people, I like being close to my friends, and the fact that I have this essay to work on means that I have something to focus my energy on. I don’t know if it’s that my attention span is getting shorter as I grow older, but I cannot stand to simply sit in front of the television and vacate my brain. I need my laptop near me at the same time as I am watching anything just so that I can talk to friends and surf the internet – my nan jokes that I am constantly multitasking, but it is true! I don’t know if it’s that I don’t know how to relax, but most of the time I don’t really feel the need to relax, because I’d rather be on the go. And I guess that that’s at the heart of the problem – at Christmas, there’s just not enough to do that keeps me entertained! I don’t dislike Christmas, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realised that the soft-focus memories of my childhood aren’t enough to hold my attention anymore, even if they were still able to be replicated (which they’re beyond not). I don’t need gifts anymore, and I don’t need to watch a silly film on the TV while eating x, y and z. That’s not me. Fundamentally, what I want from Christmas more than anything is to spend time with my friends, get out of the house and go somewhere and talk, be silly and have fun.

2009 marks the first Christmas period where I have not worked in retail. Although I am mostly grateful for this (since Christmas is a stressful time of year to be serving behind the counter, or generally to be doing anything), it did mean that I wasn’t really bombarded with the Christmas decorations and music that usually go up in stores in October, and therefore was not reminded to start organising my gifts and purchases until about last week, when I thought “Shit, it’s mid-November and I have not bought ANY presents.” In the last week or so I’ve started redressing that balance, and I’m starting to get a move on with it. I have the added motivation of Gucci earrings.

Don’t be fooled by this fairly crude picture – the earrings are delicate and beautiful, just the right balance of style and elegance, neither masculine nor feminine. Just… lovely. A wonderful upgrade from my Armani Earrings (and who knows, maybe it’ll inspire a sequel song on my next album!). However, this wonderful upgrade costs £240 (they are white gold and Gucci… and it will raise my fashion game) so I have therefore made a pact with myself that I will not buy them until my Christmas shopping is done. There are a couple of reasons for this.

It’s kinda selfish to just keep buying things for myself when tis the season to give. I love buying presents for other people, and I don’t feel guilty spending money on other people!

If I spend £240 on earrings, then it is possible (knowing myself) that I might physically run out of money before I manage to get everyone’s presents. Which again, is kinda selfish when I could easily wait for the earrings a little bit longer. It’s not like I don’t have anything satisfactory to wear in my ears for the time being!

So I am sticking to my pact. I also have the added incentive of getting my Christmas shopping done before December the 11th, because that is the date of our Christmas party for uni, and I would quite like to wear my new earrings to this Christmas party. Because then I will feel extra-special.

Anyways, this post isn’t meant to be about my Gucci earrings. It is about Christmas shopping, and the fact that it feels almost strange for me not to be working in retail during this period, since it’s something I’ve done for the past 8 years. I don’t miss the incessant Christmas music in shops, and I don’t miss the cranky customers nor the constant target-monitoring. However, I enjoy the busy feeling going into the shops, and the excitement of everyone buying gifts for people they love – whether people get cranky about it at the till or not, I like the idea that everyone is trying to please someone else. I don’t give to receive – I give to hopefully make people happy at Christmas with a gift that shows how much I appreciate them, and also that I have considered their personality and found them something appropriate. In that sense, I am more a subscriber to the commercial meaning of Christmas than the religious meaning of Christmas (as long as it’s done with love and friendship as the primary agenda, rather than showboating, there’s nothing wrong IMO with buying someone a gift to show your appreciation of them).